MacMillan's Reading Books eBook

wretched than to rise.
His house was known to all
the vagrant train;
He chid their wanderings,
but relieved their pain;
The long-remember’d
beggar was his guest,
Whose beard descending swept
his aged breast,
The ruined spendthrift, now
no longer proud,
Claimed kindred there, and
had his claims allowed;
The broken soldier, kindly
bade to stay,
Sat by his fire, and talked
the night away.
Wept o’er his wounds
or tales of sorrow done,
Shouldered his crutch, and
showed how fields were won.
Pleased with his guests, the
good man learned to glow,
And quite forgot their vices
in their woe;
Careless their merits or their
faults to scan,
His pity gave ere charity
began.
Thus to relieve
the wretched was his pride,
And e’en his failings
leaned to virtue’s side;
But in his duty prompt at
every call,
He watched and wept, he prayed
and felt for all;
And, as a bird each fond endearment
tries
To tempt its new-fledged offspring
to the skies,
He tried each art, reproved
each dull delay,
Allured to brighter worlds,
and led the way.
Beside the bed
where parting life was laid,
And sorrow, guilt, and pain,
by turns dismayed,
The reverend champion stood.
At his control
Despair and anguish fled the
struggling soul;
Comfort came down the trembling
wretch to raise,
And his last faltering accents
whispered praise.
At church, with
meek and unaffected grace,
His looks adorned the venerable
place;
Truth from his lips prevailed
with double sway,
And fools, who came to scoff
remained to pray.
The service past, around the
pious man,
With steady zeal, each honest
rustic ran;
E’en children followed
with endearing wile,
And plucked his gown, to share
the good man’s smile.
His ready smile a parent’s
warmth expressed;
Their welfare pleased him,
and their cares distressed:
To them his heart, his love,
his griefs were given,
But all his serious thoughts
had rest in heaven.
As some tall cliff that lifts
its awful form,
Swells from the vale, and
midway leaves the storm,
Though round its breast the
rolling clouds are spread,
Eternal sunshine settles on
its head.
Beside yon straggling fence
that skirts the way,
With blossom’d furze
unprofitably gay,
There in his noisy mansion,
skilled to rule,
The village master taught
his little school.
A man severe he was, and stern
to view;
I knew him well, and every
truant knew;
Well had the boding tremblers
learned to trace
The day’s disasters
in his morning face;
Full well they laughed with
counterfeited glee
At all his jokes, for many
a joke had he;
Full well the busy whisper
circling round
Conveyed the dismal tidings